Queen to be
by QueenToBe
Summary: Anharah, future queen of Pentos, is quickly approaching the time for marriage and coronation. However, she doesn't think that just any lord should rule with her, so she opens up a tournament for her hand. For anyone, anywhere in the world. Rated M for future chapters. More details inside. UPDATE- ON A SMALL BREAK WHILE I'M ON VACATION. BACK ASAP. (7/20/16)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! This is my first fic ever, so please be a little easy on me. I've also only seen the show, not read the books at all, so if there are some things that are inaccurate as far as the universe goes, that would be why. But please let me know if I get something completely wrong. I have 3 directions that this story could go, with 3 different pairings, and I can't decide which one so please let me know if you would rather read a Jon, Gendry, or Ramsay fic. Or if you'd like to read all 3, I could do spin offs of the original plot lines. But please review and let me know! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!**

 **(I do not own any GoT characters or universe. Only my original characters)**

Chapter One

Anharah sat calmly a the table whilst her father and the king made jokes. He had brought her with him to King's landing from Pentos to show her a small piece of the world before she became queen. So far, she had seen the inside of a small room which she presumed was the king's study, although she doubted any actual studying happened in here. From the four goblets of wine the King has consumed since they sat down, she gathered that King Robert would rather drink and joke than actually get anything productive done.

"And what about you?" The King said, jarring her from her thoughts. "What do you think of Westeros? How does it compare to the east?"

"I couldn't really answer that to be honest." She said, smiling politely. "I've not seen much of it. Your home is lovely, the bit that I've seen of it. I have to say though, Pentos definitely has a better smell. Do you always keep severed heads outside of the castle? That seems a bit extreme to me." She gestured to the window where dozens on heads decorated spikes outside the window. The smell of death and decay leeched in like a plague.

The King watched her hungerly as she spoke. "Yes. I find that if you make an example, your people will fall into place."

"That's certainly a lot of examples."

"Anharah." Her father spoke, disapproval in his voice.

"No, it's fine, Draegal." The King tore his eyes from her bosom to look at her father. "Woman are emotional creatures. They value life more. It's what makes them mothers. However," he frowned "it does _not_ make good rulers. And if you intend to make her into a queen she needs to stifle that feeling and toughen her skin. Soft rulers make for weak lands."

Anharah couldn't help but feel insulted, but her fathers warning look kept her argument inside of her head. Instead she mustered a charming fake smile and nodded to the King.

"Thank you for your point of view. I will definitely take that into consideration." She said. The King smiled a large drunken smile and clapped his hands together.

"That's the spirit! We'll make a queen out of you yet, girl! In fact," he paused, running a puzzling hand through his unkept beard, "I think we have a beheading today. You should come. Watch how the western people handle their criminals."

His voice swelled with pride and the princess began to slightly sick to her stomach. It was Anharah's turn to give the warning look now. Her father immediately took notice and spoke up.

"Actually, your grace, I was hoping to show Anharah some of King's Landing. We're only here a few days and I'm sure she would love to see how the _western kings_ keep their cities. Perhaps you could even join us?"

The Kings face immediately turned upside down. "You don't want to see that!"

Anharah quirked a brow at him. "Why not? What's wrong with your city?"

The King stammered and began to turn red. "Nothing is wrong with my city!"

"Then why don't you want us to see it?" She inquired.

King Robert began to turn a light shade of plum. "I don't… I just… Seven Hells! You want to see the fuckin' city? You can see the fuckin' city. I'll have Cersei take you on a personal fuckin' tour of the city. How about that?!"

Anharah smiled a large cat-like smile. "That sounds lovely."

"Alright then." Robert huffed, downing yet another glass of wine. He immediately snapped his fingers and a lanky youth came and refilled his goblet.

Anharah took the pause as an opportunity to escape the small stuffy room that was eating up all of her vacation. "If you two will excuse me, I think I'll go find your wife and plan our outing." She stood and began to move towards the door. The King shooed her out the door, taking yet another large gulp of wine, his eyes never leaving her moving curves.

When the door shut he set his goblet down, already half empty, and looked at the eastern King. "You're going to have problems with that one."

Draegal laughed a short laugh and said "Don't I know it."

Anharah pondered her outing at dinner that night. King's Landing was truly revolting, and sadly she really wasn't surprised. The people sat and begged or starved on every corner. The streets were covered in shit thrown from windows of people's homes. The people either sneered or shriveled with fear when they saw their queen. All of it was a perfect "example" of what she didn't want her home to be like. As she sat in her pensive state one site kept flashing to the forefront of her mind; the orphanage.

She thought of all of the poor children. All bastards, all motherless, all completely out of control of what happened it their lives. They were doomed to be exactly that, totally unable to change their stars. Her heart ached for them, and she thought of all the children in Pentos just like them. They all grew up to be bastard men and women. It didn't seem fair. If she could even help only one…. An idea popped into her head.

"I think we should have a tournament." She blurted to her father.

Everyone stopped eating and looked at her. Her father calmly swallowed his mouthful, set his fork down, wiped his face with his napkin, and raised his eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" His questioned.

"When we get home, I think we should have a tournament for my hand." She explicated. "And I think we should open it to the public. To the whole word. Anyone who wants an opportunity to be a king or marry me can enter. Anyone from anywhere, excluding criminals, murderers, and rapers of course."

"That's absurd." Cersei caughed, choking on her wine. "Why in the world would you want to do that?"

"Who better to govern the people than the people?" Anharah countered. "High born people tend to be out of touch with the people of their city. They don't understand the needs of their people, because they never were part of the people they rule. It would be an excellent opportunity to bring in a fresh eye, and fresh blood to the crown."

"If that is not the most ridiculous-" Cersei began.

"Quiet, Woman." Robert put a silencing hand up in Cersei's direction. He and the eastern King both looked at Anharah with interest. "Go on." Robert urged. "What are the specifics of this all inclusive tournament?"

Anharah stammered for a moment but quickly listed off some basic rules. "Anyone can enter, the battles would be hand to hand combat only, first blood wins-"

It was her father who interrupted this time. "Why first blood? Why not to the death?"

"That would be too many deaths. Not enough husbands for anyone else." Her father nodded in approval allowing her to continue.

"You supervise all of the battles up until the last few, and from that I'll pick a champion." Draegal made a face. "It is my husband after all. The man I'll spend my whole life with, whose children I will bear. I think it's only fair that I get the final say in who it is." She urged.

Draegal pursed his lips and thought for a moment, and eventually gave a curt nod of agreeance. All of the Baratheon children's mouths hung open in utter disbelief.

"Do you honestly think that many men are going to fight to marry you?" Cersei scoffed.

Anharah sat up in her chair and looked the western queen directly in the eye. "I think that if I were to go to the poorest part of this city, and told one of the men that if he killed his mother he would never have to worry about his next meal again, his mother would be dead in minutes. Add being King and being married to me on top of that… I think men are going to be stumbling over themselves trying to enter." Draegal's eyes narrowed, but Anharah paid him no attention. Her gaze never left Cersei's.

"I think you give yourself far too much credit. Are these really the kind of men you want running a whole city? They're only commoners. They know nothing of ruling or the crown." Cersei sneered, unconvinced.

"Let me worry about that." Anharah replied. "And besides, it could be some pampered, feathered lord who wins. I may have spoiled, high-born babies yet." She waved her hand, waving the thought and Cersei's thoughts from her mind, and returned her gaze to her father and Robert. The two kings seemed to locked in thought, both pondering the possibilities. A feline grin crept onto Robert's face.

"A tournament for the hand of the princess… Open to anyone in the world. Now that sounds like a fuckin' fun thing to watch." Robert pondered, running his hand through his beard.

"It does indeed." Draegal agreed, a small, satisfied smile settled in his features.

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought, and what you would like to read.**

 **-V**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! So I ended up picking Jon because I got more requests for Jon through reviews and PMs, but if you really want a Gendry or Ramsay fic definitely let me know and I can do one as well. Thanks so much for reading! Please review and let me know what you think!**

 **(I do not own the GoT character or universe. Only my characters.)**

Ned Stark frowned at the sheet of paper in front of him. It was a rewritten copy of a letter to the King from the King of Pentos. He furrowed his brow and reread it, trying to make sense of the nonsense on the page.

"To All the Lords and Men of the world,

The King Draegal of Pentos warmly invites you to participate in the first ever open tournament for the hand of the Princess. Enter for a once in a lifetime chance to not only win the hand and heart of the beautiful Princess Anharah, but also to be crowned the new King of Pentos and protector of Essos. The tournament shall begin exactly one week post the Princess Anharah's name day celebration. All men are encouraged to enter, whether he be of the highest and most noble house, or the lowest born bastard in the lands. All are welcome. We look forward to seeing your participation.

Sincerely,

Draegal Of House Asymeon,

First of his name,

King of Pentos,

And Protector of the Free Cities of Essos."

There were instructions underneath from King Robert to copy the letter and distribute it among the lands.

"What a load of horse shit." Ned grumbled."

His wife looked up from her plate of food and furrowed her at him. "What is it, Ned?"

He slid the letter to his wife and she read it, her face scrunching up the further she got down the page. The small commotion piqued the interest of the six other people at the breakfast table. "What in the world?" She said, reaching the end.

"What is it?" Arya Stark questioned trying to look over her mother's arm to read the paper. Lady Stark moved the paper from her eyesight. She looked at her husband.

"Do they have no suitors for her?" She asked.

"For who?" Sansa asked, leaning forward in her chair.

"No one." Lady Stark replied sternly. Arya kneeled in her chair and peeked over her mother's shoulder.

"For Princess Anharah." She said in victory, and then promptly lost balance on her chair and fell onto the stone floor beneath her. Catelyn looked down at her in annoyance.

"Who is Princess Anharah?" Robb Stark asked, confusion blatant on his face.

Ned let out an irritated sigh and rubbed his face with his hands. "Anharah is the princess of Pentos, and their next queen."

"What?" Sansa questioned, leaning even further in her chair. "Why would she have no suitors? Isn't she supposed to be one of the most beautiful women in the world?"

Arya having returned to her seat, smiled and laughed a devilish laugh. "Maybe all the stories are a lie, and she's actually ugly and fat."

"Arya!" Catelyn scolded.

"I highly doubt that's the case." Ned responded. "I've seen her mother, and she was the kind of woman that men write songs about. Princess Anharah is supposed to be her spitting image."

Catelyn turned to him, jealousy blatant on her face. "Well whatever the case may be, I don't understand why they're holding a tournament for her hand. They should be able to find her a suitor."

"They're holding a tournament for her hand? Are we going?!" Sansa asked excitedly, almost bouncing in her seat.

"No, we are not." Catelyn responded coldly.

Sansa slumped into her chair, disappointed. Jon Snow looked at Ned with interest.

"What's so bad about it? What kind of tournament is it?" He asked.

"They're making it an open tournament. Open to anyone." Ned responded.

"What does that mean?" Jon inquired.

"It means anyone can enter. They're specifying that anyone from a heigh born lord to the 'Lowest born bastard in the land' is welcome to participate." Ned quoted from the letter.

Theon busted out laughing and looked at Jon. "Hey, that's you! You should join. Go win the heart of the princess." He placed a mocking fist over his chest and continued to laugh. Jon gave him a dark warning look. "No, really, you should. It's better than the Nights Watch that you're so infatuated with. At least with the princess you'll still get to use your cock instead of letting it freeze and fall off at the Wall." Theon wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

Ned's face quickly became angry. He slammed his fist onto the table. "Enough!" He commanded and the laughter died instantly. "Whatever their intentions are is unimportant. King Robert wants their invitation posted in my lands and I intend to obey the King's order. But I don't want to hear anymore about this rubbish. Is that clear?" Everyone at the table nodded their heads. "Alright then." He said.

Later that afternoon Jon stood with Robb while they watched their brother practice archery. Robb nudged him and said "Theon's right you know."

Jon made a face at him. "Right about what?"

"About the tournament in Pentos. I think you should enter."

Jon huffed and shoved Robb. "Oh fuck off with that."

Robb laughed and then his face became very stoic. "I'm serious, Jon. Think about it. You have a golden opportunity to make something great out of yourself."

"Yeah, or make a fool out of myself or get killed. Besides, you heard what Father said. It's all just a load of horse shit."

"I don't think the King would have sent it out to all the lands if it were horse shit." Robb countered.

"So what then," Jon huffed "I'm just supposed to go over there and fight for some prissy princess who I've never even met?"

"To be fair, you've never met any princesses."

"Okay, so let's say I actually win, and that's a big if, what then?"

"Then you marry her, Idiot." Robb smirked.

Jon began to turn slightly red from frustration. "And then what?!"

Robb raised his eyebrows in amusement. "You honestly don't know what you do after you marry a girl?"

Jon narrowed his eyes at his half brother. "Oh, fuck you."

Robb began to laugh, "No, Jon, you fuck _her"_

Jon pursed his lips and looked down for a second and began to turn to walk away. "You know what? I don't have to take this shit."

Robb stopped laughing and held an arm out calling him back. "No, wait, wait. I'll stop. All I'm saying is that you should consider it. If you win you'd be a king, not a bastard."

"I wouldn't be a bastard at the Wall either."

"Yeah," Robb conceded, "but you don't get to fuck anyone at the Wall. Plus, if you do get knocked on your ass and lose the Wall will still be there."

Later that evening Jon found his father in his study. He knocked lightly on the door, nervous about the conversation ahead.

"Come in." He heard his father's voice say from the other side. He opened the door and found Ned Stark pouring over a pile of papers. He looked up at Jon and said "Yes? Did you need something?"

Jon closed the door and walked to center of the room very stiffly. "I-I was wondering if you could tell me more about the eastern princess."

Annoyance immediately took over Ned's face. He slumped back in his chair and threw his hands up. "Oh for fucks sake! Not this shit again. What do you want to know about her for?"

Jon looked at his feet for a moment, afraid to speak. His father was the one person he was afraid to disappoint. He looked back up at Ned and said "I was thinking about entering her tournament."

"And why would you want to do that?" Ned asked, irritation still plain in his voice.

"It's an opportunity to make something of myself." Jon replied, standing his ground.

Anger started to creep onto Ned's features. " You can make something of yourself at the Wall, or have you forgotten that in your search to find glory?"

"No, but at in Pentos I have the opportunity to have a family. I don't have that at the Wall."

Ned's features softened. He knew Jon had never actually had a proper family. He knew he had always felt and been treated like an outcast. He couldn't shame him for trying to attain the one thing he'd always wanted. "Come on, Lad. Come sit down." Jon moved to sit in the chair in front of the desk.

"I don't know much about her to be honest. I've only met King Draegal once when he came on a trip to Westeros before his coronation. He had just been married to his eldest daughters mother. I know that she died shortly after Anharah was born, and he married his second wife almost immediately after. They had four children, all daughters, and his second wife died shortly after the last daughter was born."

"So is that why they're having the tournament? To find someone to be King?" Jon asked.

Ned shook his head "No, Draegal does things different than most. From what I've heard he's training Anharah to rule just as he would a son. He just probably wants her to be married before hand because that's tradition."

Jon nodded and looked up at his father. "Do you think I could win?"

Ned pursed his lips and thought for a moment. "I think you have better chance than most, but I don't know how they fight over there. I will tell you one thing though, if Anharah is anything like her mother was, this tournament will not just be fighting for her honor. I would expect a twist or two to be thrown in."

Jon only nodded lost in thought. He pondered all of the possibilities in his head while Ned waited patiently for his response. After a few minutes he looked up and asked "When is her name day?"

"The letter said a fortnight from tomorrow." Ned replied simply, already knowing the decision his son had made.

"I had better get packing then."

 **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought!**

 **-V**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! I'm sorry that this chapter is slightly shorter than the others, but I definitely wanted to end it where I did. There will most likely be another chapter tomorrow as well, because I kind of ended it on cliff hanger, and I hate when people do that. So watch your alerts! Thank you so much to the people who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story! It really makes my day when I get alerts for stuff like that! I hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for reading, please leave me a review and let me know what you thought!**

 **(I do not own any GoT characters or universe. Only my original characters)**

Jon had been sailing for a week and a half and quite frankly he was fucking tired of it. It had been nothing but seemingly endless water and constant prattle from the other men on the ship about the things they were going to do to the princess when they won the tournament. He sat at a round table that night with a group of boys and yet another bowl of murky looking, very questionable soup in front him as they once again told their would-be victory stories.

"-and then I'll put a knife in his throat, find the princess, and take her right then and there." One boy boasted proudly.

"You can't take her right then, Stupid. You have to wait for your wedding night!" Another protested.

"Do not. She's _my wife_. I'll do whatever I please with her." The first boy grinned.

"Yeah, but her father will be right there." Another boy interjected.

"Then I'll put a knife in his throat, too!" The first boy exclaimed, picking up the bread knife from the center of the table, and all three of them threw their heads back laughing.

Jon picked up his bowl and got up from the table.

"Hey! Where are you going?" One of the boys called after him, but he ignored him and kept walking.

"Gets old pretty quick, doesn't it?" A voice said to him. He turned in its direction and saw it was the captain himself speaking to him from a table in the corner.

"Yeah, it does." Jon agreed

"Why don't you sit down here for a while? There's no reason for those little shits to ruin your dinner."

Jon, hardly being able to say no to the captain, took a seat between the first and second mate.

"I have to say though," the captain continued, "this tournament has done wonders for business. I've never seen so many people fight over passage on a freight ship before." He sighed, leaning back in his chair, stretching his legs out and resting his hands on his fat stomach. "But if I suppose if you're going to travel across the world to fight for anyone, she'd be the one to do it for."

"What? Do you know what she looks like then?" Jon asked hopeful for even a vague description.

The captain and the mates laughed. "Fuck no!" He responded. "I've never seen her before in my life. I'm talking about her family, her Daddy's family really."

"What about them?" Jon asked, searching for some clue as to who this princess was.

"You don't know who they are?" The first mate asked.

"No…" Jon answered, confusion threaded through his voice.

"Fuck, Lad!" The captain bolted upright in his chair, shock blatant on his face. "How do you go across the world to fight for someone and not even know what your getting yourself into!?" Jon stayed silent. " _Warlords_ , boy! She comes from a family of warlords!"

Shock filled Jon's face. "What do you mean by warlords?"

"Well her Daddy's not a warlord, because he didn't have to be, because his granddaddy and all the men before him since the doom have been." The first mate piped up.

"So he just lives on reputation? And nobody messes with him?" Jon asked as he tried to piece parts of the puzzle together.

"Well, no, not necessarily." The second mate chimed in. "Supposedly there have been conflicts, but the rumor is he found a way to compromise and come to an agreement."

"Yeah, that's kind of easy to do when the agreement is 'find a way to fix your issue or I'll destroy your town.'" The first mate laughed.

The captain looked at Jon and cracked up. "Look! The boy looks like he seen a ghost!" All three men laughed at Jon's expense for a good minute before settling down. "Really though," the captain said wiping his eyes. "King Draegal is a good ruler. He's more than fair with his people. Like I said, if you're going to fight to get in good with anyone's daughter, it would be his. They're definitely the people you want on your side."

It was nearly midday the next day when they reached the harbor of Pentos. Jon slung his pack over his shoulder and went to find the nearest inn to get settled into. Unfortunately, the princess' name day was only three days away and the whole city seemed to be bustling to get ready for what appeared to be a festival in her honor. Every person he asked for directions either ignored him or told him to fuck off.

Finally, he reached a woman who was setting out jams and preserves on table to sell. "Excuse me, Miss? If I buy one of your jams would you _please_ give me directions to the nearest inn." He asked exasperated.

"But of course." She answered with a sweet smile on her face. Jon quickly paid and stashed the jar in his pack. He looked at her expectantly. "The only inn worth staying at in Pentos is the one next to Kaanah's fabric shop. Other people will stop you and tell you otherwise, but they are liars. They want you for your money."

Jon nodded thankfully. "Okay, how do I get there?"

"Take the steps up into the city until you see a sign with scissors." She made a scissor motion with her hand. "It will be directly to the left of that."

Jon nodded and began to hurry away. "Oh and sir?" She said calling him back. He turned to look back at her. "I would have told you even if you did not buy my jams." He rolled his eyes and began to run up the steps.

The whole city wound up at an incline. As soon as he left the harbor, he passed a fish market. From there he passed a bakery. He reached a shoe repair shop and stopped to catch it breath when a flash of color caught his eye.

Two woman were descending the steps, people dodging to get out of their way. One of them was tall, and had the complexion of a very rich cinnamon. He hair was as black as the night, and her exotic beauty was eye catching. Her dress was a pale pink and was the an exact copy of the lilac one on the woman next to her, who happened to be quite possibly the most beautiful woman Jon had ever laid eyes on.

Her skin was as pale and creamy as milk and her hair a vivid, deep burgundy. She was considerably shorter than her counterpart, and her dress hung on her curves in a way that made Jon drop his jaw. He watched her eyes as they watched the streets around her and noted that they looked like two glimmering emeralds, encased in a band of lashes that made her look doe-eyed and bright.

He watched as she walked up to an old woman bowed deeply, holding her dress out, her shiny curls falling over her dainty shoulder. Whatever she said made her counterpart throw her head back and laugh, and whatever the woman responded with made the beauty straighten up and scowl. The old woman patted the fire haired woman's stomach with the back of her hand making her visibly roll her eyes, before ushering her in and snapping her on the bottom with the end of her measuring stick. Her counterpart disappeared behind her, laughing all the way in.

"Did you need a rag for your drool?" An old man's voice snapped him from his trance. Jon stammered for a moment before the man interrupted him. "Did you need something?"

"Yes!" Jon said, catching his train of thought. "I'm looking for Kaanah's fabric shop."

The old man pointed to the shop where the beauty had disappeared. Jon looked the sign directly above it; Scissors.

"I wouldn't try to go in there now though. Kaanah won't let anyone in her shop until they've gone." The man continued.

"Who are they?" Jon asked, entranced once again.

"Those are the princesses." The man answered.

"Which one is the uh-the uh-" Jon stammered once again.

"The red head?" The man answered for him.

Jon nodded.

"That's the Princess Anharah."

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please leave me review and let me know what you thought! I really love reading them! Hope you enjoyed!**

 **-V**


	4. Chapter 4

**Another Chapter as promised! Another huge thank you to those of you who have reviewed, favorited and followed! I would love to continue to hear from you guys! I hope you enjoy!**

 **(I don't own anything, blah, blah, you get it.)**

Anharah marched down the steps from the castle into the city below. It was her very favorite time of year as her name day was a mere three days away. She watched as the whole city bustled about preparing for the festival ahead. She liked that her people celebrated with her. It made her feel like the day wasn't just about her anymore, like it was about everyone. Like everyone was celebrating another happy year instead of it being another reminder of the soul crushing responsibility that was creeping up on her ever too quickly.

"Can you please remind me why we're going all the way into the city, and why Kaanah isn't coming to us instead." Her eldest sister Rhiannah asked from beside her. Rhiannah was only a year younger than Anharah, and they had been inseparable nearly their whole lives. It was only now in the past year since Anharah had started her queen's training that they had truly become individuals.

"I like coming into the city." Anharah responded with a large smile on her face.

"I don't understand why." Rhianna quipped, an annoyed smirk on her face.

"You know, Rhi," Anharah began. "You shouldn't be like that. They are no different than we are. We are all people, all with feelings, wants, and desires. And in the end we all die the same way. You need to stop acting like you're above everyone else."

"I'm a princess!" Rhiannah scoffed. "If I'm not above them than who is?!"

Anharah started to get annoyed. "Rhiannah, if you would kindly unsheathe your head from your ass for just a moment, I would like to remind you that you almost were _not_ a princess. You were almost part of the exact population that you hold yourself so highly above now." Rhiannah looked down in shame. "You would do well to learn some humility."

Rhiannah looked back up gaining steam for her argument once again. "Well I still think that if she is going to make your dress, she should at least come to you. It's common courtesy."

Anharah opened her mouth to chastise Rhi when she spotted the old seamstress outside of her shop fixing a dress on a mannequin. A wicked grin spread across her face and she made her voice just loud enough for the old woman to hear.

"You know, Rhi, you can't really blame Kaanah. It must be hard for someone so _old and frail_ to walk up all of those steps. She probably wouldn't make it. Her _ancient heart_ would probably give out halfway up." The old woman narrowed her eyes and scowled but never looked away from the mannequin. Anharah walked up to the woman and bowed mockingly low, holding her dress in both hands. "My Lady, I have come once again to let you stick pins in me."

Kaanah rubbed both of her eyes with her fists and blinked profusely. "Princess? Is that you? I couldn't tell. You've gotten so fat!" Rhiannah busted out laughing and it was Anharrah's turn to scowl. She old woman placed the back of her hand on the princess' perfectly flat stomach. "Is there a child in there?" Her eyes widened in mock horror. "You haven't been lying with men out of wedlock have you?!" Anharah's scowl deepened and Rhiannah's laughter began to carry through the street.

"You know, Kaanah, they've been telling you for years to get your eyes checked. And look now, you've gone blind!"

"Yeah, yeah." Kaanah muttered, shooing Anharah inside. Anharah stepped in front of the seamstress and she snapped her on the ass with her measuring stick.

"Ow!" The princess protested.

"Look at that bottom!" The woman exclaimed. "Your dress will never fit! I don't think there's enough fabric in the whole shop to cover that thing!"

Anharah rolled her eyes and made her way to the center of the shop. She waited until Kaanah had locked the door and drawn the shades to begin to undress. Rhiannah perched herself on one of the plush stools in the corner of the shop and waited as Kaanah flitted from one side of the shop to the other, lighting candles.

After all of the candles were lit she stopped and observed Anharah's naked form. "Maybe not so fat after all. Perhaps it was the dress."

"You made the dress." Anharah protested.

"Yes." Kaanah conceded, "but you have to know how to wear it." Rhiannah giggled from the corner. "I made the same dress for both of you. On _her_ -" she pointed to Rhi. "It looks fabulous. But that's because she's shaped like a twelve year old boy." Rhiannah's giggling ceased immediately. "You, Princess," she pointed up and down Anharah's body. "Are more _well endowed_ than your sister is. It's what these men are pouring over each other for to enter your marriage contest. You should have cinched the waist. Two different beauties require two different dresses." Anharah nodded in understanding. Kaanah ushered her onto another plush stool in the center of the shop. There was a mirror directly in front of it.

Anharah observed herself in the mirror while Kaanah began to take her measurements. Her eyes pulled down from her face to her dainty neck and shoulders, down to collarbone which stuck out ever so slightly. Kaanah wrapped her measuring tape around Anharah's very full bosom and wrote down the number on a piece of paper.

"I don't know why you're even having this marriage contest." Kaanah began again. "With breasts like yours you could have any man in the world. Why not just pick one? Be done with it. You have enough to worry about as it is. A husband is a very small thing."

"Because it's not just about a husband." Anharah responded. "It's about giving people a chance to change their stars."

"And what do you care about their stars?" Kaanah countered.

"Everything. These are my people. Mine to watch over and rule. And in my watch I've noticed the many injustices that they face every day. The bastard children destined to grow up to nothing, be nothing, have nothing. The fish monger's son forced to be a fish monger because that's the only thing he knows. I just want to give people an option. Even if it only helps one person, to me that's better than nothing."

"Okay." Kaanah nodded. "I understand trying to help your people, and I know they'll love you for it, but why open the entries to the world? Those are not your people. You do not know them. You owe them nothing." Rhiannah leaned forward on her chair, having not heard this part before. Anharah sighed and Kaanah began to measure again.

"When I went west, it was honestly the most disgusting, eye opening experience I have ever seen. Those people were treated like garbage. Worse than animals. Their rulers never taking the time to know them or even care to notice what they needed to survive."

"To be fair, Princess, you are the only royal person I have ever seen take frequent trips into the city and visit with the people like you are one of them." Kaanah interjected.

"I _am_ one of them." Anharah protested.

"No, you're not. You're their queen, not their friend." Rhiannah piped in. The old woman sadly nodded her head.

"As much as I would like to disagree, your sister is right. One day you'll make a decision that they don't approve of and you'll see just how different from them you actually are."

The princesses stood in the door way of the shop after the fitting and waited on Kaanah. She was writing some notes on paper about the size changes. The dress itself was already stunning as it was and it was still on the mannequin. The top of it was off the shoulder and fitted, revealing "just enough cleavage" as Kaanah put it. There were two pieces of sheer fabric that hung off of the shoulders to give a little "feminine flair." At the waist it cinched inward and started to flow outward into layer upon layers of sheer skirts.

"I'm going to dye it plum." Kaanah stated pining the notes onto the dress and walking over to them. "White is for brides and we are not there yet." She dusted her hands on her apron and the planted them on her hips. "And we will get there. There will be no dying during The Course, is that clear?" Anharah nodded. "Good. Now, I'll bring it up to the castle tomorrow evening when it's ready. That is if my _ancient heart_ doesn't give out on me first."

Both girls busted out laughing and started to walk out of the shop, Kaanah shooing them the whole way out. "Oh wait!" She called them back. She grabbed a piece of white cloth and tied it around Anharah's waist. "Cinch the waist." She said winking. "Now go!" She commanded, snapping both of the women once again on the bottoms with her measuring stick.

The princesses began the ascension back up to the castle. They climbed in silence for a moment before Rhiannah spoke.

"Speaking of The Course," she began. "With your tournament and everything, when is that going to happen?"

Anharah thought for a moment. "Father said he thought it should happen when we get down to the last seventy men or so."

"So it'll be a while then."

Anharah nodded. "Hopefully."

"Has he even told you what you're going to be doing yet?"

"Well I've been practicing combat training since I was ten, and I've been building up immunity to poisons since I was twelve, so I know those things are involved, but no. He's really only given me vague basics."

"Like what?" Rhiannah asked raising an arched brow. "He won't tell me anything."

"Well basically, each obstacle and challenge represent a different quality a good ruler should have. Quick thinking, strategy, fearlessness in the face of danger. Things like that."

Rhiannah nodded, deep in thought. "Is it true that you have to kill a man."

Anharah sighed and nodded. "That one is ability to defeat one's enemies."

They were both quiet for a moment. "What happens if you lose?"

Anharah shrugged. "I really don't know. It's never happened before. For one, I would die. And for two it would be a great dishonor to Fath-"

Anharah slammed into something very solid. She slipped and lost her footing and started to fall when something grabbed her and steadied her. She opened her eyes and was staring at the chest of a man. She looked up and stared into grey eyes so dark they bordered on black. Black curls framed the eyes as well as the rest of his face. His bearded mouth taught with dismay and his features riddled with concern.

"Are you okay?" The man asked.

"I-I'm fine." He let go of her and she took a small step back.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I did not mean to be in your way."

Anharah shook her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. I was at fault. I ran into you."

She took a moment to study the man. He was very tall, a good eight inches over her, and even through his leathers she could tell that he was very well muscled. Her eyes traveled up his broad shoulders and thick neck to his masculine jaw line and his face that was now blank of emotion. He was very handsome.

"What is your name?" She inquired.

"Jon, Your Grace."

"Jon of house what?"

The man looked down for a moment, and then looked up to meet her gaze. "Of no house, My Lady. It's Jon Snow."

She nodded. "Jon Snow.. Is it cold where you live, Jon Snow?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

She looked him up and down once more. "Are you not hot here in your leathers, Jon Snow?"

"I am, Your Grace."

"Then you should take them off before the heat of the day makes you faint." Anharah started walking up the stairs again and Rhiannah quickly followed suit.

"He was gorgeous!" Rhi whispered into her ear. Anharah nodded whole heartedly in agreement. "If he doesn't win, I want him for myself."

"Oh no." Anharah protested. "Even if he doesn't win, you cannot have him. He came here for me. He's mine."

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought!**

 **P.S. I hope you're happy now Calliope's Scribe now that they've both seen each other and met!**

 **-V**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey! Welcome back to another chapter! I apologize for not having one up sooner, but I've had a ton going on this week and haven't had the time. Thank you once again to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed! I would definitely love some more reviews though! I would love to hear what you think! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it!**

Jon sat in bed and listened to the sound of the city outside of his window. The opening day of the tournament was finally upon them and the people of Pentos seemed to, once again, be in full swing. He had learned a lot about them so far in his week in their home.

They seemed to be a happy people, who were very happy with their rulers. That was evident by the extravagant festival they threw in honor of Princess Anharah's name day. They filled the streets with streamers and banners. All of the shops contributed to the parade they had thrown the morning of. And as many people as possible crammed into the square of the city to watch the princess herself and the royal family release thousands of butterflies into the air to truly kick off the celebration.

Jon groaned, remembering the princess that night in her party dress. It suddenly became very aware to him that he had not relieved himself in any way that morning. He firmly grasped the length between his legs and began to pump his hand up and down. He thought of the way her dress hugged her body. The way it was tight on her full bosom, pushing her breasts up. He remembered the way it accented her tiny waist and flaired out to compliment the round curve of her backside. He pictured the way it swished from side to side as she walked…

A loud banging on the door jarred him from his thoughts. He covered himself, mood instantly gone, and went to see who was at the door. "Wake up, pretty boy!" A voice called from the other side. "We have a wife to fight for!"

Jon opened the door and peered out. Two men were waiting on him. One tall and rather fit wit yellow hair. Jon had gotten to know him well in the week since his arrival. He was the son of a baker in King's Landing. He had the room next to Jon's and Jon had been awoken several nights in a row by the man's bedtime activities. Whatever he did, the whores of Pentos seemed to be very pleased with it.

The other man was just as tall but had two times the body mass as his counter part. He was also from Westeros, however he came from the respected house of Tarly. His father being a brutish man gave him choices similar to Jon's. Either fight in Pentos or join the Night's Watch.

"What do you fuckers want?" Jon asked with irritation laced in his voice. "The damn thing doesn't start for hours."

"Yes," the fat man answered. "But we still have to go and get established. We don't even know what the specifications of everything are. I've been reading up on tournaments and-"

"What Sam's trying to say," The blond man interrupted. "Is that this shit is first come, first serve. So you want to get there early."

Jon let out a sigh. "Gimme a minute." He closed the door and started to dress. The princess was right when she suggested he change, and he had taken that advice. His adorned a short sleeve linen shirt and pants instead of the thick leather armor he was used to. He still kept his boots and sword though. He couldn't bring himself to wear the leather sandals like the rest of the people. He had tried some on and felt ridiculous.

He emerged and the three men made their way to the stadium in which the tournament would be held. It was up very far into the city, almost to the castle, and once they arrived Jon knew that Sam was right about arriving early. The place was swarming with hundreds of men ranging in all shapes and sizes from all walks of life. There were several men standing on podiums directing people to tents to sign in. Not knowing what else to do, the three men followed the flow of people and got into one of the lines.

They stood behind a scrawny youth who by the looks of his clothing was poor as dirt. He turned and looked at the three men. "Are you lot as nervous as I am?" The men stared at him.

"It's just," he began again. "Look at all of these men. There must be almost a thousand in total. And tomorrow half of them will just be gone. Eliminated. Just like that."

"That's generally how a tournament works.." Sam replied.

"Yeah, I know that. I'm not an idiot. I just think it's crazy. What if it's to the death? That would mean that half of these men would be dead tomorrow… What if we're some of them? What if I'm one of them?" The boy began to visibly shake.

"I think you'll be fine." The yellow haired man answered.

"You really think so, uhh.. What's your name?"

"Michal." The blond answered.

"You really think so, Michal?"

The blond man nodded his head. "Yeah. I think you'll do fine. You're a small guy. Small men are quick. Just think quick." Michal gave the boy a reassuring smile.

The lad widened his eyes and nodded. "Just think quick." He turned back around and began muttering the phrase to himself.

"Just think quick?" Jon whispered into Michal's ear. "You're going to get the boy killed."

"Not my problem." Michal responded.

After what seemed like years, the three men finally moved up to the table where an older man sat waiting to check them in. The man looked at Jon completely uninterested.

"Sign your name on the parchment along with your house, if you have a house, and the move into the area outside the stadium and wait for you name to be called."

"Do you know what kind of fighting we'll be doing?" Jon asked.

The man sighed having answered this question at least three hundred times today. "All battles are hand to hand combat, first blood wins. No exceptions."

Jon nodded. "How many battles per day?"

"One hundred battles per day until The Course. The King will decide how to proceed from there."

"What's The Course?"

The man stopped what he was doing and looked up at Jon. "I am not a tour guide. It is not my fault that you know nothing," he looked down at the page, "Jon Snow. Find a local person and ask them. Get out of my line."

Jon walked away to find Michal and Sam. "Aye!" He called out, reaching them. "What's The Course?"

"It's a seven leveled obstacle course that all Pentoshi rulers have to complete in order to be King. Why?" Sam responded from his encyclopedia of a brain.

"The man at the desk mentioned that the contest changes after The Course."

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise and shock. "Really?! They're making her do it, too, then."

"Who?"

"Princess Anharah. That's strange. She'll be the first woman to ever attempt it."

Jon furrowed his brow. "What does she have to do?"

"I don't know." Sam responded, his excitement growing. "The obstacles change with each King or I guess Queen now. But one thing for sure that never changes is that in the last obstacle she'll have to fight a man to the death and defeat him. That'll be interesting to watch. I hope I'm still here then."

"Why does she have to do that?" Confusion seeping into Jon's voice.

"It's tradition." Sam responded still entranced. "Since her father is the only King thus far to not have any sons, he's probably training her as he would a son."

"But she's not a son." Michal interjected. "She's a daughter. She's supposed to learn about grace and charm and wear pretty dresses and _make sons_. Not learn to kill people. When I'm King that'll be the first thing to go."

Jon and Sam busted out laughing. "When you're King?" Jon laughed.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

The three were interrupted by a stout man stepping onto a large podium. All of the men were instantly silenced.

"Welcome." The man began, his voice carrying over the crowd. "In case you were not informed at the sign in areas let me enlighten you of how things will run. There will be one hundred battles per day. We will randomly select two names from the list until all of the names have been chosen. The battles are strictly hand to hand combat, first blood wins. After The Course things will change-" there was a small mummer in the crowd. "But we shall cross that bridge when we arrive at it. Is there any questions?"

"What if you both get blood at the same time?" Someone shouted from the crowd.

"Then the King will decide who won."

"Will the Princess be there?" Another shouted.

"I am not aware of Princess Anharah's whereabouts or her agenda."

"What happens when we win?"

"That is another task to cross once we get to it. Now if there are no more questions, let us begin." He looked down onto the scrolls of parchment. "Ardryan of house Tropha and-" he looked down again. "Jon Snow."

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought!**

 **-V**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi guys! Sorry for the wait! I've just been extremely busy lately and haven't had the time to actually sit down and write until today. But I hope this chapter makes up for it! I've never actually written any fight scenes before so please let me know how I did. As always, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed! I've loved all of the reviews! I really really have! So please keep them coming! I'm going to try to keep updating about once a week so keep your eyes open for them! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!**

 **(You know the drill by now.)**

Michal and Sam both stared at Jon with their eyes wide. "That's some pretty shit luck getting picked on the first go around." Michal said amusement thick in his voice. Jon nodded in agreement.

"Would the first two contenders please approach the podium?" The fat man bellowed into the crowd.

Jon began to make his way through the masses of men. They all stared at him, some with amusement, some with anger that it wasn't them walking up there, some with fear they too would have to battle him. Having been fairly to the back of the crowd, once he finally got to the podium his opponent was already standing there waiting.

Jon looked at the man and realized he wasn't much more than a boy. Jon could tell he was a local because of his clothing and his eastern features. The boy stood in front of Jon and looked him up and down trying to size him up. He had a confident look on his face, but Jon could see through it to the fear in his eyes.

The fat man audibly cleared his throat to gain both of their attention. "If you would follow me." He walked through a small door into the stadium. Jon and the boy followed behind through a very dimly lit hallway into what looked like a changing room.

There were wooden benches along one wall with hooks on the wall above them. On the adjacent wall were every weapon imaginable hanging. Everything from swords and daggers to battle axes and maces. Above them they could hear people beginning to fill the stadium.

"You'll wait here until you're called. There will be no fighting until then, is that clear?" The contestants nodded. "Now, you may both pick a weapon from the wall to fight with if you've not brought one of your own." The fat man looked at the sword on Jon's waist. "Don't think you'll be needing one though. I'll be back soon to get you two into position." With that the man walked out shutting the door behind him.

The two men sat awkwardly in silence for a few minutes until the smaller man got up and began to examine the weapon wall. He would pick one up, hold it in his hands, look at Jon's sword and then rehang it on the wall. This went on until finally he looked at Jon and asked "How well do you know how to use that thing?"

Jon quirked an eyebrow at him. "Well enough."

"I'm serious! I don't want to go into this battle unprepared. I don't want to get in there and find out that you're some expert swordsman and get myself killed."

"You won't get yourself killed. It's not a killing fight."

"I know that, but first blood could mean a lot of things. First blood could be a giant gash to my head, and I could die."

"That's unlikely."

An angry expression flashed across the boys face. "Look, my father is in that crowd." He pointed to the ceiling above them. "Do you know how embarrassing it would be for his son to be the very first loser?"

Jon nodded. "Aye. I do."

Relief took over his features. "Great. Now how good are you with that thing?"

Jon gave the boy an amused smirk. "I said I understood. I never said I would help you. I'm here to win."

The boys face twisted in anger. "Fine. You know what? That's actually better. It'll make my victory even more satisfying." He picked a mace from the wall that was entirely too large for him and pointed it at Jon. "Prepare to have your ass handed to you, Lord-"

"Snow." Jon finished his sentence unable to keep the humor from his voice. This seemed to enrage the boy further.

"Snow? Is that like Sand is here? Are you a bastard?"

"Aye."

The boy busted out laughing. "Well I suppose that answers my question right there. You probably have no training. You probably stole that thing from someone."

Jon felt anger bubble inside of him. "I didn't steal it from anywhere."

"Oh yeah? Then where did you get it from?"

"It was a gift from my father."

The boy started to laugh harder. "See, that's how I know you're lying. Don't you know what bastard means? It means you have no father!" The boy calmed his laughter and waved it away. "Thank you for that reassurance. House Tropha will not be shamed today."

Jon decided to keep his mouth shut for the time being, but took joy in knowing the rude awakening the little shit would soon get. Just then two men enter the changing room.

"We're ready for you."

Jon and The Tropha boy exited the room following the men and Jon could already see the next to contenders coming up the hallway to go into the changing room. One man took the Tropha boy down and side hallway while the other guided Jon down the main hallway. As they walked Jon could hear someone shouting followed by the people cheering and stomping above him. It was only then that his nerves began to kick in. Not regarding his opponent, but rather about the crowd itself, and the princess and King in said crowd.

Jon and the man reached an opening into the actual stadium and got a clear look at the crowd. The arena was packed to the brim with people, all cheering, all ready for a fight. He looked to his right and could see the King sitting with a tent over his seats. The seat directly to his right was empty. Next to the empty seat were four feminine forms, none of which had any red hair.

"Let's keep this quick." His escort instructed. "There are ninety-nine more fights we have to get through today."

Jon nodded and the man shoved him out into the stadium. The cheers erupted again from the people as Jon made his way to the center. He could see his opponent making his way from the other side to meet him in the middle. There was another man standing in the middle of the arena holding a piece of paper. He looked at both men when they approached.

"When you hear the sound of the gong the fight has begun. As soon as either of you see blood stop and we'll declare the winner. Now who is Snow?"

"I am." Jon responded.

The man looked out into the crowd and and bellowed "And our first contenders are Jon Snow of Westeros!" He grabbed Jon's arm and raised it up. "And Ardryan of House Tropha!"

The man began to walk out of the arena and the two men got into position.

"Good luck, Bastard Snow. You're going to need it." Ardryan sneered. The gong sounded and he lunged towards Jon swinging the too large mace.

Jon easily dodged it and the weight of the weapon threw the boy off balance causing him to stumble. That seemed to enrage him and he quickly regained his balance and once again lunged at Jon.

Jon caught his swing this time with his sword and knocked the mace from the boys hands. Panic engulfed the boys face and he backed away from Jon slowly and got quicker the closer that Jon got. The boy scrambled for his weapon, but Jon was faster and kicked it from his reach.

Ardryan, seeming to be out of options, lunged once more at Jon, fists flailing.

A singular punch connected with Jon's shoulder and Jon decided that he had had enough. He grabbed the next punch in his fist and knocked the boy across his face with the hilt of his sword. Blood and teeth flew from the boys mouth and he fell to the ground in crumpled heap.

Jon looked up in time to see a father and six young men get up and begin to leave the stadium. He assumed those were the men Of House Tropha.

The announcer ran out into the arena and grabbed Jon's arm to throw it up into the air. "Winner! Jon Snow of Westeros!" The people erupted into cheers for him.

Anharah paused for a moment listening to cheers in the distance and a wooden staff connected with her side and knocked her to the ground.

"You cannot get distracted!" Her instructor chastised her. He reached down and offered a hand to help her back up. She took it and clutched her side with her other hand.

"I know! I know!" She argued.

"I'm serious, Princess." The large man stared at her, his face stern. "There will be cheers at The Course. That will not stop your opponent from killing you. If you get distracted you are giving him the opportunity to crack your ribs," he pointed to the side she was clutching. He moved his finger down and pointed the arm holding the side. "Or your arm. Or your pretty little skull." He tapped her on top of her head. "And you can't be our queen with your brains all over the ground, can you?"

Anharah shook her head.

"I thought not. Now go wash up. We're done here for today."

"What?! Because I made one mistake? I've been practicing for weeks!" Anharah protested.

"And you need to continue practicing. You need to be better. I'll see you again in a week." The man began to walk away.

"No!" Anharah yelled. "You will not walk away from me!"

"Then make me stay." He dismissed her and kept walking.

Anharah picked up her fallen staff and ran after the man. She swung it like a club at his head and he ducked out of her way taking a fighting stance once again. She swung again and he caught it with his staff and countered. Anharah dodged his swing and ducked down swiping he staff at his knees. She connected, hard, and heard a crack as he fell.

"Son of a bitch!" Her instructor screamed clutching his knee. Anharah's eyes went wide, having never been able to actually land a hit on him before.

"Are… Are you okay?" She asked, shocked. They both grimaced as he popped his knee back into place. He ripped a piece of fabric from his shirt and secured his knee with it.

"I'm fine." He got up and waved her helping hand away. "Now that is how a warrior fights. That was low and that was dirty. But that's what's going to keep you alive. Don't be afraid to fight like that. Stab him in the cock if you need to, because God knows that if you had a cock he would stab you in yours."

Anharah nodded in understanding.

"Now I'm actually leaving this time. Nice work today."

Anharah's eyes widened. "Did you just say nice work?"

Her instructor rolled his eyes and audibly sighed. "Don't let it go to you head. You're still terrible. I wouldn't surprised at all if you died."

"Oh no." Anharah shook her head. "I'm a warrior. Also your words."

"Yep, you're definitely going to die."

She stood tall and proud. "Definitely not! Just stab him in the cock right? That'll bring him down straight away." She started to laugh as another bout of roaring cheers filled the air from the stadium.

Her instructor motioned in the direction of the noise. "Do you have any say in all of that mess?"

She nodded. "I have the final say in it. Why?"

He pursed his lips. "Marry one with a beard."

Anharah made a face at him. "Why?"

"Because growing a beard takes patience. You're going to need someone who's patient enough to deal with all of your nonsense." And with that he walked away leaving her laughing in his wake.

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review and let me know what you thought!**

 **-V**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, Guys! I'm back at cha with another chapter! I kind of used this one to clarify some things about The Course and so on, because I felt like I had kind of been a bit murky about what exactly it was. Thanks once again to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed! You guys are the real MVP's. Please let me know if you're still confused about anything or feel like something still needs some clarification. And of course let me know what you thought! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy.**

Anharah made her way up from the courtyard back into the castle feeling proud and sore. She tenderly touched her side and could already feel the bruise beginning to form under her blouse. She sighed. That was always her least favorite part of herself. She bruised so easily. She could bump into a table and find a purple whelp on herself later that evening or someone could grab her a little to hard and you could see the impression from their hand for the next week.

She began to climb the steps to the third floor of the palace where all of the princesses chambers resided. She noticed that the steps had just been cleaned and was mindful not to track very much dirt on them, not wanting to undo all of their hard work. She smiled as she remembered a time when she and Rhiannah were younger and were forced to scrub the grand staircase in the main hall for tracking in mud everywhere when her father had guests coming to see the city. She smirked at the memory of his furious face when he saw the sets of seven and eight year old foot prints from one end of the hall to the other. Of course at the time it had not been funny at all. As a child, and even now as an adult, her father angry was one of the most frightening things to witness. She had never seen someone evoke trembling fear simply by giving a look before.

She reached the landing and saw one of the handmaidens exiting her youngest sister Elysah's chambers with a folded pile of fresh linens in her hands. "Annalise!" She called out to her.

The young maiden looked up and curtsied the best she could with the linens. "Yes, Princess?"

"Would you run me a hot bath, please? I feel disgusting."

"Of course, Princess. Right away." The young woman immediately changed course to the direction of Anharah's chambers. Anharah followed and entered the room behind her. They walked through an archway away from the main room into a large wash room. Anharah walked behind a floral printed privacy screen and began to undress whilst the maiden prepped her bath.

"How has your day been, Your Grace?" Annalise inquired. Annalise was around Anharah and Rhiannah's age and she was by far Anharah's favorite handmaiden. She was the only one who actually spoke freely to her and the only one that she felt like she could speak freely to as well. She and Rhiannah spent many afternoons with Annalise as she did mending work talking and gossiping about the happenings and workings of the castle and the city itself.

"It's been eventful. I had another lesson today."

"Oh?" Annalise responded interest clearly piqued.

"Yeah… I've definitely gotten better, but I'm not sure I'm anywhere near ready for The Course yet." Anharah looked down at her now exposed side and saw the beginnings of what would become a nasty purple bruise.

"I still don't understand why you have to do that. I feel like the man you marry should do it since he would be the King, not you."

Anharah emerged from behind the screen to see Annalise pouring the last of the water into the large stone bathtub.

"I actually know the answer to that."

"Do you?" Annalise responded, surprise clear in her voice.

"Yes." Anharah strode to the tub, up the two steps onto the platform which it sat and stepped into the water. She winced as the heat made contact with her body.

"Too hot?" Annalise asked.

"No, it's fine. I like it hot. I just need to adjust." She sat in the steaming water for a moment absorbing the warmth and breathing in the scents of the bath oils Annalise had added.

"So," she continued. "My father actually explained to me why I have to go through all of this, surprisingly."

"That's shocking considering he won't give you even the slightest detail of what you're going to face."

"I know. But he explained the political side of it to me." Anharah began to wet her hair and wash as she continued talking. "He told me that the person who completes The Course is the true ruler of Pentos and their family is the line of succession. So basically, if my husband were to do The Course for me, if he were to die and we had no children, his family would take power and rule over Pentos. However, if I complete The Course, then it would be my family and House Asymeon stays in power. That's the loophole. No where in any of the ancient texts does it say that a woman cannot complete it. It's just never been done before because everyone has always had at least one son."

"What if you die and you have no children?"

"Then nothing. He continues on without me. It only matters if he dies because all of the texts say that the Queen cannot rule alone."

Annalise nodded and handed Anharah a bottle of body wash. "That is so smart of your father."

"It's kind of stupid if you ask me. What does it matter if my husband's family rules? I'm not going to choose anyone whose awful."

There was a knock at the door. "Come in!" Anharah called to the door.

Rhiannah walked in and shut the door behind her. She strode to a chaise lounge near the tub completely unfazed by Anharah's nudity or Annalise perched on the edge of the tub.

"When you finish your bath Father wants to see you in his study."

Anharah nodded and looked back to Annalise who nodded at Rhi and continued talking as if no interruption had happened.

"No, think about it, Princess. Good people can still come from awful families, and it's even smarter now given your tournament. What if your marry a bastard with no family? What happens then?"

"What are we talking about?" Rhiannah inquired.

"Politics of The Course." Anharah answered.

"Ah." Rhiannah nodded. "Speaking of that, Father hasn't told you who or what you'll be facing yet has he?"

"All I know is that there is something to do with poison and I have to battle someone to the death. And I know that someone is a 'he' because that's what my fighting instructor keeps saying."

Rhi smirked. "That's what I thought. Well, dear sister I've done some digging and I found some things out for you."

Anharah stood up in the bath water and Annalise handed her a towel to dry off with. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean I found some old books with the history of The Course in them. And I know what you'll be doing, and who you'll face. Or rather the kind of the things and people you'll face."

Anharah paused in her drying and stared at Rhiannah in shock. "How did you find those? I've been searching for them literally for months. They've all vanished."

Rhiannah gave her a sly look. "I have my ways."

Anharah quirked a brow at her and stepped down from the platform and shrugged into a silken robe that Annalise was holding out for her. "Be careful of those ways." She went to sit on a plush stool in front of a vanity and began to apply lotion to her hands and arms, paying particular attention to her elbows and finger tips. "Go on then. What did you uncover?"

"Well." Rhiannah made herself comfortable in the chair and Annalise perched herself in the adjacent one. "I looked back through the previous Courses and found that there's always some kind of venomous animal involved. Father had snakes and Grandfather had scorpions, so be mindful of that because you'll have to get past them."

Anharah nodded urging her on.

"The whole Course is timed as well. The books said it was to measure your 'efficiency in completing a task.' Now here's the really insane part." Rhiannah leaned forward in her seat. "Your opponent is someone up for execution from the dungeons."

Anharah gasped as the jar of lotion slipped from her grasp. It fell and shattered on the hard stone floor. Annalise immediately moved to clean it up but Anharah held up a hand to stop her, her eyes never leaving Rhiannah's. "What?!"

"I know. And I asked around the dungeon guards…"

"It's not…"

"It is."

Annalise looked between them with fear on her face. "The Butcher?"

Rhiannah nodded. Anharah remembered when 'The Butcher' had been arrested. It had been nearly ten years before when a maniac was loose in the city raping and murdering women. They were always found scattered in pieces. She always wondered why he wasn't put to death then. Now she knew. She could feel the anger well up inside her.

"This is not happening." Was all she said before she bolted up and stormed out of the room.

Anharah marched directly for her Father's study. She vaguely heard voices calling after her, but she ignored them. She had one thought in her mind and she was beginning to see red.

Anharah could hear giggling from the other side of the door of the study and that enraged her further. She threw the door open with enough force that it slammed into the wall. She made eye contact with a young servant perched on her fathers lap. She gave the girl a dark look. "Get. Out." The girl sat there frozen. "NOW!" The girl leaped up and raced out of the room tripping over herself on the way out. Anharah slammed the door behind her and locked it.

"Anharah, what is the meaning of this?" Her father demanded.

"Do you want me to die?"

"What?!" He sputtered shock and anger filling his voice.

"Do. You. Want. Me. To. Die?"

"Of course I don't! What would you say-"

"See I think you do. You throw me into this Course that I was never supposed to do in the first place. You tell me it's my duty to my family and to my city. Fine. Then you refuse to tell me anything about it and THEN choose the most dangerous man to walk into Pentos for me to face."

"Anharah."

"You throw me into this whole thing completely unprepared, with half assed fighting lessons, and bullshit agility training. My opponent is four times my size! What am I supposed to do? Run from him and hit him with a stick?"

"Anharah."

"No! You must want me to die! Why else would you put me in this situation? Is it because I look like my mother?" Her voice began to crack. "Everyone says that I look just like her. What? Is it all too much for you so you thought you would just snuff me out? You're my father! You're supposed to love me!"

"ANHARAH, THAT IS ENOUGH!"

She froze and stared at The King as tears welled up in her large emerald eyes. "Why are you yelling at me?" Her voice suddenly became very small. Her tears burst over the brim of her eyes and she began to sob.

The King exhaled sharply from his nose. "Anharah, come here."

Anharah's sobs got harder and she began to hold the tops of her arms. The King got up from his chair and walked over to his daughter. She took a step back from him, but he grabbed her and pulled her into a warm embrace. He held her and rubbed her back until she cried herself out and then moved her to sit in a chair in front of his desk. He grabbed the chair next to it and turned it to face her.

"I want to make some things very clear to you. Are you listening?"

Anharah looked at him with red rimmed, puffy emeralds and nodded.

"Your mother was the love of my life. When she died it destroyed me. I have never loved another woman since her and I never will."

"What about Rhiannah and the girls' mother?"

Draegal shook his head. "I love your sisters, but I never loved their mother. If Rhiannah hadn't been conceived I never would have married her."

Anharah nodded.

"Now, you looking like your mother has been the greatest gift the Gods have ever given me. It showed me that she never left us and I see so much of her in you every single day. Nothing gives me more joy. Anharah," he took his daughter's hand. "Believe me when I say that I want to tell you about The Course. I would love to walk you through it step by step, but I can't. It is forbidden. I don't even get to help decide what obstacles or opponents you face. If I did, you would not be fighting that maniac. You knowing who your opponent is already gives you more of an advantage than I ever had. When I can tell you things, I will. Can you understand that?"

Anharah nodded.

"Do not be discouraged, My Little One. You will conquer this obstacle yet. I have every faith and confidence in you."

Anharah smiled a watery smile. "Thank you, Father."

Draegal let out a deep sigh. "I had originally asked for you here to talk to you about your tournament, since you had to miss the first day of it."

"You did?" Anharah asked, her excitement growing.

"I did. You should have seen how many pretty boys showed up to fight for your honor. It was pathetic."

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought!**

 **-V**


	8. Chapter 8

**First of all, I want to say I'm sorry for the lack of chapter. My life the past couple of weeks have been a legitimate shit show. I have tried to sit down and write so many times and just kept getting interrupted. I really wish there was some way I could post and just give you guys a heads up when the chapter is going to be late, cause I have felt like such an ass. So to make up for that I'm posting the longest chapter yet. Whoop! Whoop! Just a heads up, the POV kind of changes pretty frequently, but it's all still in third person. I didn't have any difficulty reading it, but I knew what was happening anyways, so I'm a little biased. Please let me know if anything confused you. As always, thank you to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed. (Whoop!) Please leave some more and let me know what you thought! Especially cause this chapter is a little different!**

Jon breathed deeply trying to catch his breath as his arm was thrown into the air for the third time. His opponent laying in bleeding heap on the ground beside him.

"Winner! Jon Snow of Westeros!" The crowd roared with cheers, a sound Jon still hadn't become accustomed to and he didn't think he ever would. His eyes once again scanned the King's tent only this time there were five feminine forms missing instead of just one.

Jon couldn't help the twang of disappointment the stung through his chest as he walked off the battle field. He made his way back through the stadium and out into the city to his room at the Inn.

"You're becoming a real crowd pleaser, aren't you?" One of the other men called after him running to fall in stride beside him.

"I guess so. I hadn't really thought about it."

"You would think the hype would get the princess to at least fuckin' show up, but apparently not." The man grumbled.

"She probably has some good reason for not coming. Doesn't she have that Course thing to train for?" Jon responded.

"I guess. But I mean, who has a tournament and then doesn't even fucking show up to it. It just bad manners is all.. Speak of the devil. That doesn't look like any kind of training I've ever seen."

The two men spotted her at the exact same moment. The Princess Anharah as well as the other four princesses were making their way up the steps into the city. They all had golden tiaras on their heads and they were all smiling and laughing. A group of armed guards trailed behind them.

Jon noticed how out of place Anharah looked next to her sisters. All of them were tall and tanned with almond shaped eyes where she looked like a little porcelain doll next to them. They looked like the eastern people where she looked almost foreign.

The group ascended the steps and grew closer to Jon and his counter part and Anharah looked away from her sisters for a moment and locked eyes with Jon. Her beaming smile made his breath catch in his throat.

"Jon Snow!" She called to him. Jon ignored the other mans gaping mouth and made his way toward the princesses. "I got your name right, didn't I?" The princess' brow furrowed with concern.

Jon swallowed the lump in his throat and managed to get out a weak "Aye."

Anharah's beaming smile returned. "Good. I really dislike when I mix up people's names. It's so disrespectful."

"No, you did fine. That was perfect."

Her glittery emerald eyes stared into his and he was finding it hard to breathe.

"How is the tour-"

"Nah-Nah!" Her youngest sister tugged at her skirts.

"What is it, Elysah?" She asked trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

"Can we go look in the shops?" Two other sisters stood behind the little girl and looked at her with hopeful faces.

Anharah looked around for Rhiannah, and found that her eldest sister had disappeared. "Stay within earshot. Don't talk to any strangers. There are a lot of unfamiliar people in the city right now. The last thing we need is a missing princess."

"Yes, Nah-Nah." Elysah replied.

The three began to walk away into the crowd when Anharah called them back. "Excuse me!" The three girls stopped and looked back at their elder sister. "I did not receive an answer from two of you. So I'll ask again. Myrissah, Cecyliah, did you hear what I said? Is that clear?"

"Yes, Anharah." They responded in unison.

"When I tell you something I expect a response. Is that understood?" She said with her voice stern and motherly.

"Yes, Sister." They responded.

"Good. Now go."

The three girls ran into the crowd. Anharah pointed to two of the six guards that were with them.

"You two, go with them. If anything at all should happen to them, my father will have your heads."

The two guards nodded and followed the girls into the crowd. Anharah turned back to face Jon and her smile returned to her face.

"Sorry about that."

"No, that's fine. You were saying something?"

She furrowed her brow "What?"

"You had started to ask me something before your sister interrupted you."

Realization flood her face. "Oh! I was going to ask how the tournament was going? I'm assuming well for you since you're still here."

Jon nodded. "I'm doing decent for myself." He quirked a brow at her. "You know, you would know exactly how the tournament is coming if you actually came to it."

Anharah's face began to get heated with embarrassment and Jon noticed her blush as she looked down.

"Yeah, my father has had me focused more on training right now. He doesn't want me to get distracted. Especially since The Course is so close now. I've been in training basically every day." Anharah recalled her father vamping up her training considerably after their conversation in his study. Her words had not fallen on deaf ears.

Jon pointed up her body to her tiara. "This is training?"

Anharah's blush deepened.

"Don't get me wrong, you look… Stunning," Jon immediately regretted his word choice. "But that doesn't seem like something that you would wear to a battle."

"It's not." Anharah met his gaze with a twinkle in her eyes. His words were not lost on her. "There's a group of players that we always go see and they're in town this week. My father told me that I could take the day off to go see their show as long as I brought all the sisters with me. Hence the tiaras and the guards."

Jon opened his mouth to respond but was immediately silenced by little girl voices screaming for their sister.

"Nah-Nah!"

"Ana!"

"Anharah!"

Panic flooded Anharah's face and she whipped around away from Jon and rushed towards the voices. Jon was right on her heels not wanting her to walk into something potentially dangerous. Her group of guards followed behind both of them, keeping their distance, but at the ready.

The crowd was full of tourists, none of which knew to move when The Princesses were coming through. They all stood and stared at her like cattle in the road when she tried to push through them. Jon could see her anger and frustration building and wanted to help.

"Oi! Make way for the princess!" He bellowed and the crowd immediately parted down the middle.

Anharah let out a small relieved sigh and turned to Jon. "Thank you." She said quickly and hurried through the streets to her sisters who were now visible and running towards her.

"What's wrong?! What happened?" Panic encompassing her voice as she reached them. "Where are your guards?"

"Anharah, it's babies!" One sister told her with glee.

Jon and Anharah both looked at the sisters with confusion.

"What?" Anharah asked.

"Babies!" Another sister blurted.

Anharah looked at the youngest sister. "Elysah, what about babies?"

"Baby cats, Nah-Nah!"

Jon watched as Anharah's face dropped and her eyes got wide. She pursed her lips and he could tell she was trying very hard not to scream.

Anharah's voice got very small. "What?"

One of the othe sisters answered. "Yeah, Ana. Myrissah, and Elysah, and I were looking in the shops and one of the owners has baby cats! There's six of them and he said we could have all of them! There's one for each of us and one for a Papa! Come on! We'll show you!"

Cecyliah grabbed Anharah's hand and began to pull her onto one of the side streets. At that moment Jon could no longer contain his laughter. He began to double over and Anharah stopped in her tracks to look at him.

His eyes met hers and he could see the rage behind the calm beauty that was her face.

"Aren't you coming, Jon?" She asked, her voice disgustingly sweet.

He stared at her with his face blank and his eyes wide.

"You're fighting to be my husband, aren't you?" She held a dainty hand out to him. "Well come on, My Love. Spending time with the family is a huge part of being married to me."

Jon hesitantly took her hand and she laced her fingers through his and began to pull him behind her.

They knew they had reached their destination when they saw and old man holding a meowing box. The girls' guards were standing one either side of him.

"Princessa!" The man greeted her with a toothless smile.

Anharah's face was calm, but Jon knew she was still angry by the way her nails dug into his hand.

"Let me make something very clear to you, Sir." She began. "You do not and will not ever offer anything else to a child in my city again, without adult consent, let alone the princesses. They are seven, ten, and twelve years old. They have no authority at all to make decisions about what they can and cannot have. Had you waited until myself or my other sister had come, we would have both told that the answer is no."

"But-" Elysah began and her eyes began to get watery.

Anharah held up a silencing hand and continued. "Now I am going to have three very upset girls to take home to my father, the King. This was supposed to be a good day, and now it's ruined."

The man maintained his smile. "It doesn't have to be ruined, Your Grace! You are still more than welcome to have the cats! Free of charge!"

"No."

"But Anharah!" Cecyliah protested.

"I said no."

"He said that if we didn't take them that he was going to feed them to the snakes!"

Anharah looked at the man, rage plain on her face.

"This is a pet shop. The snakes have to eat." The man said.

"Give. Me. The. Damned. Cats." The man handed the meowing box to Anaharah and she shoved into the arms of one of the guards. She turned and walked away without another word with Jon at her side and the girls skipping behind her.

They began to walk up the steps to the Castle again when Anaharah heard a voice behind her. She ignored it at first , but eventually it was right behind her.

"Hey Princess! You fucking royal bitch!"

"You have got to be kidding me." She whispered under her breath so only Jon could hear.

She turned around to face the person who obviously had a death wish.

"That's right! I'm talking to you! You dumb royal whore!"

Anharah looked at the guards. "Take them home. Now. And don't lose them."

Two of the guards ushered the girls and cats away and Anharah and Jon turned back to the yelling boy.

As soon as Jon saw him he recognized the boy. He was his very first opponent. The one with all the talk and no deliverance.

"Can I help you with something?" Anharah asked.

The boy took a stumbling step towards her and Jon took a half step in front of her. The boy didn't seem to notice Jon.

"Yeah! How are you going to have a contest and then not even fucking show up. What kind of cunt move is that?"

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you fucking bitch. You don't even show up."

Her guards moved closer and Jon almost completely stepped in front of her and Ardryan suddenly saw him. He took another stumbling step and peaked around Jon to look at Anharah.

"What? Is it because of him? Already have someone fucking you, huh? Can't even show because he already ruined your tight little Royal pussy with his nasty, bastard cock?"

Jon filled with rage and tried to contain himself. Ardryan took the opportunity and tried to duck around and him. He threw a stumbling punch at Anharah. She dodged it and her guards pulled her back. As soon as Jon saw him throw the punch he couldn't contain the rage any longer.

Jon grabbed the boy by the throat and shoved him into a wall. With his other hand he threw as many punches as he could.

Anharah rushed forward and called out to him.

"Jon!"

He didn't hear her.

"Jon!"

Nothing.

"Jon Snow!" She reached out and as soon as she touched him he dropped the boy. He met her worried look and grabbed her face. He tilted it from right to left checking for marks or bruises.

"Are you hurt?" He asked. His voice was deep with adrenaline.

Her guards walked around and dragged the now unconscious Ardryan away.

"No, Jon, I'm fine." Her hand reached to cover his hand on her cheek and she felt something wet. She looked at her hand and saw that it was covered in blood. "But you are. Are you alright, My Love?"

Jon seemed to suddenly realize where he was and took a step back from Anharah.

"I'm fine. I just… Nobody needs to talk to you like that ever. And when he tired to hit you…" Jon shook his head. "No. He deserves to die."

Anharah smiled a dazzling, star struck smile at him. "Fortunately, you're not the only one who thinks that way. When my father finds out, He'll be dead within the hour."

Jon nodded. "Good."

Anharah heard Rhiannah through the crowd. "Make way! Make way!"

When she finally breached the people she looked down at the small pool of blood at Jon and Anharah's feet. She gave Anharah a shocked look. "I go to get a new dress and miss all the action. What the hell happened?"

 **Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought! Catch you on the next one!**

 **-V**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys! I'm back at cha with another chapter! So this is the first part of "The Course." I had orginally wanted to just upload one monster chapter with the whole thing, but as I was writing it just was going to be WAY too long for one single chapter. The Course is like my little brain child. It and the character of Anharah are what made me want to write this story to begin with so I'm very attached to it, and to be honest, it was super intimidating when I actually sat down to actually start writing it out. Thank you as always to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed. It is STILL, nine chapters in, the coolest feeling to get those emails and alerts. This story has been like a small get away for me, because I've been dealing with a lot of crap in my real world recently, and it's all of you readers who make me want to continue to write and upload, so thanks so much for that. On a brighter note, if you review no other chapters in the whole story, PLEASE PLEASE review The Course chapters. I REALLY want to know what you guys think about it! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!**

Anharah climbed the steps to her bed chamber and away from her very last day of training. Her feet felt heavy and she couldn't seem to swallow the lump in her throat. Tomorrow was the day. She entered her chambers and saw Annalise flitting from one side of the room to the other, dusting everything in sight. There was already a steaming bath ready in the washroom for her. The sound of the door seemed to jar Annalise from her cleaning frenzy.

She froze and stared at Anharah with wide eyes. "Your grace." She said in a cracking voice. She curtsied low. When she looked back up her eyes were watery and it looked like she was trying really hard not to cry.

Anharah looked down and pursed her lips together. She did not need this. "How are you, Annalise?" She walked solemnly to the wash room and began to undress. She could hear Annalise's hiccups from crying in the next room. She washed slowly, taking her time, breathing in the oils, enjoying the water as if it were her last. Annalise finally came in and picked a large sponge and began to help her wash. Anharah began to stop her, never having wanted help washing herself before, but saw the girl's red rimmed eyes and thought better of it.

Anharah allowed Annalise to help her put her lotion on after the bath and the girl took particular attention to kneading the lotion into her hands and arms. She then helped her into a flowing pink satin nightgown and into bed.

Annalise even took the time to put out all of the candles in the room one by one, something she never did. When there was physically nothing else for her to do she muttered a small "Goodnight, Your Grace." And hurried out of the room.

And then Anharah was alone.

She sat in the darkness and thought to herself, "Is this my last time in this room?"

And then the weight of The Course and the prospect of her death crashed into her and she couldn't breathe. She missed the sliver of light enter the room as the door opened and the figure climb into bed with her.

She felt arms wrap around her and a hand rubbing circles on her back. "Shh, it's going to be alright. You are going to beat this. You can do this."

She knew that voice. She looked up into the darkness and saw Rhiannah's face.

"What if I can't, Rhi?" She whispered.

"You can. And you will. Because you don't have another choice."

The door opened again and the women saw three children's shadows.

"Sister?" One of them called.

"Hey, Babies." Anharah smiled a small watery smile and began to wipe her face.

The three girls entered the room and shut the door behind them. All three of them climbed into the bed with Rhiannah and Anharah and tucked themselves in.

"Are you alright, Sister?" Myrissah asked.

"Yeah! Baby, I'm fine. Totally fine."

There was silence for a moment and then Cecyliah asked "Anharah… Are you going to die?"

Anharah's breath caught in her throat and Rhiannah answered for her. "No, she is not."

They were all silenced by the sound of heavy boots coming up the hallway. The sound opened two doors to the other bed chambers before making its way to Anharah's chambers. The door opened to reveal the King. He smiled at his daughters.

"There are all my little ones. Did you all come to wish Sister good luck for tomorrow?"

"Yes, Papa." Elysah answered.

"Well that was very nice of you, but I think it's time now to let Sister sleep. She needs rest for tomorrow."

"Yes, Papa." The girls scooted off the bed and out of the room.

The King looked at the pair left on the bed. "You, too, Rhiannah. I need to talk to Anharah."

Rhiannah squeezed Anharah's hand for moment, but ultimately did as he father told.

Draegal sat on the edge of Anharah's bed. "How are you feeling, My little one?"

Anharah's eyes got watery again. "Honestly, Father.. I'm so scared."

Draegal nodded. "That's alright. I was, too."

"You were?"

"Of course. It's normal to be scared when you know you're about to enter a dangerous situation. The trick is to not let that consume you. You have to remember that you are strong. That you can overcome."

"But what if I can't?"

"You can. And you will. You are more than prepared. I have every faith in you."

"Thank you, Papa."

Draegal handed her a small vile. "Drink this. It will help you sleep. You need your rest."

The King kissed his daughter on the forehead and walked to the door. "Goodnight, My little one." He said before walking out the door.

"Goodnight, Papa." She said as the door closed.

Anharah looked at the vile and uncorked it. She downed the contents and was almost instantly unconscious.

When she woke the sun was just beginning to break over the ocean outside her balcony.

Jon woke to the sun just beginning to break over the city outside his window. The city was unusually quiet. While he could still hear people moving about outside his window it was no where near the happy commotion that it was on Anharah's name day or even the opening day of the tournament. A sick feeling washed over him.

Anharah could die today.

Jon pictured her face in his mind. He saw her glittering emerald eyes and how it seemed like they looked right into his soul and how her shiny, burgundy locks made them stand out even more. He remembered the slight blush her cheeks always had. He envisioned her beaming smile and how it made his heart race and it hard to breathe. His palms itched as he remembered the softness of her cheeks and the way her hand felt wrapped in his. He could hear her musical laugh, and even the sternness in her voice as she mothered her little sisters. Everything about her was just so beautiful and every second he spent with her made him want to spend every second up to his last second with her by his side.

Jon felt sick and angry and helpless all at the same time. He could lose her before he even had her. He said a silent prayer to the Gods that her father had trained her well and that she would overcome all of the obstacles put in front of her.

Jon heard shouting and commotion has he made his way down into the main part of the inn. He made his way over to the bar where Michal and Sam both sat. Michal was miraculously still in the tournament where as Sam had been eliminated weeks ago and was only sticking around to see what happened with The Course since it was literally a once in a generation opportunity.

"Bets! Place your bets here!" A man was shouting as he walked around the inn taking money and bets from patrons.

"Seems kind of wrong don't you think?" Sam stated.

Jon and Michal looked at him.

"I mean, that's someone's life. I mean, she could truly die today, and quite brutally at that, and they're treating it like a game." He elaborated.

Jon said nothing, but silently agreed with Sam. Her life was not a game.

Michal wrapped an arm around Sam. "Ah Sam. You think too much. It's all part of the fun. Oi, mate!" He signaled to the man taking the bets. "One silver says she makes it, but she gets beaten to a bloody pulp."

The man wrote down his bet and took his money then proceeded to continue calling out, "Bets! Place your bets here!"

Michal downed the rest of his drink and slammed his cup on the counter. "Let's head down there. I want to get a good seat, cause you know it's going to be a packed house."

"Just think about it, Lads." Sam said as they climbed the stadium steps to their seats. "We are truly witnessing history today. Whatever happens today goes into the history books forever."

All three of them froze when they reached the top and saw into the stadium.

"Holy fucking shit." Michal said.

Anharah stood in the entry tunnel of the stadium with her back to the opening. There was a large tarp covering the opening anyways, but farther away from it she was, the less real it seemed, and in her head she was silently wishing it would all just disappear. Her fighting instructor stood in front of her holding the tops of her crossed arms.

"You can do this, Princess. You are one of the best students I have ever had. Just remember, do not let him get his arms around you. That will be your down fall."

Anharah nodded and her instructor could see the fear on her face. He pulled her in for a tight hug.

"Look, you are the most obnoxious little shit I've ever had to train." Anharah giggled into his chest. "But you are also an excellent fighter. You're fearless, and I have every confidence in you. Dying is not an option today at all. You have way too much to do after today for that. Plus, your sister would be a shit queen." Anharah outright laughed into his chest. "I'm serious. Gods love her, but she would be awful. And I would be pissed because I would have to train her. So no dying, okay?"

"Okay." Anharah mumbled into his chest.

A man behind them cleared his throat and Anharah looked up.

"It's time, Princess."

Anharah nodded and took a step away from her instructor, and he grabbed her hand. She looked back at him. "No dying, okay? Say it."

"No dying." Anharah repeated.

He smiled at her and said "Go get them, Little Queen."

She smiled and walked away from him taking deep breaths to steady herself. She paused when she reached the tarp and the man held it aside for her. She looked down and made sure her boots were laced and tightened her high pony tail. The man placed a hand on the small of her back.

"When the gong sounds you may begin. Remember the whole course is timed, and while you may have all the time that you need, every second counts."

Anharah nodded and the gong sounded.

"Oh. Fuck." She thought to herself as she was pushed out into the stadium.

Anharah looked out and all she could see was a sea of white and yellow. In the far distance she could make out what looked like a ladder. She took a few steps forward and stared at the sea.

"What is that?" She thought to herself. She kept walking until she was right upon it. She looked down at her feet and immediately jumped back.

It was a human skull.

She stepped forward again and could make out thousands of skeletons. She noticed something glittering in the sun. On one of the skeleton hands was an elaborate ring.

"That's a King's ring." She thought. "This is a sea of Kings' skeletons. A sea of dead Kings."

A sickening feeling washed over her as she realized that her family members were probably scattered about the sea.

"You can do this. You can do this. Just walk across. You can apologize in the crypts later. You can do this." She whispered to herself as she took the first step into the sea. Her foot landed with a crunching noise as the bones broke from her weight. "Oh Gods, I'm so sorry."

She stepped carefully as to not trip and started to make her way across. Each step brought with it a crunching and evoked a "Sorry!" from Anharah. She had made her way about a third of the way across and she was beginning to feel more confident.

"This is not much of a challenge." She thought to herself. "Creepy, yes, but there really is no obstacle in this. Just walk across the sea of bones."

She took another step and her foot got caught on something. "Fuck." She thought. She reached down to free her foot and her heart stopped.

A ringed skeleton hand was firmly gripping her ankle.

She tried to pry it off with her hands, but that only made it grip harder. She used her other foot and started to stomp at the hand, to which it shattered like glass. All around her she could see movement as skeletons started to rise. She quickly scanned them and noticed that they all wore rings. She hoped to the Gods that they were as frail as their friend's hand. She searched for something to use as a weapon, but there was nothing but bones everywhere.

She snatched up an unhinged jewelless arm and began to run the best that she could to the ladder at the other end of the sea. The skeleton kings followed quickly behind her gnashing their exposed jaws at her.

She could see the ladder clearly now. It was only twenty yards away when she tripped. She tried to get back up, but something had a hold of her. The Kings were quickly gaining on her and she began to panic. She hurled the arm in her hand at the nearest gaining skeleton and began to thrash and kick until she heard the distinct shattering noise and her foot was free. Anharah scrambled up and bolted for the ladder. She could hear the clacking of the Kings' jaws behind her.

When she was about three feet from the ladder she leaped for it not wanting to chance falling again with the Kings so close. As soon as her feet left the sea the Kings stopped moving. They all began to wobble, what ever magic was animating them was clearly gone now. One by one they shattered and collapsed.

Anharah held onto the ladder for dear life and took a moment to catch breath.

She took a moment to look around and realized the only direction to go but up. About one hundred feet up to be exact. "Seven Hells." She muttered and began to climb.

She reached a rickety platform at the very top. She was so high up that she could see over the top of the stadium and out into the city. Anharah began to feel faint. She hated heights. Almost more than anything she hated heights. She peeked over the side and saw dozens of pikes sticking out of the ground, waiting on her to fall.

She looked ahead of her a saw what looked like a horizontal ladder connecting her platform to one of equal size to what she guessed was about fifty feet away. Anharah reached for the first prong of the ladder and tested its strength. It seemed sturdy enough. She lifted her feet up and began to swing from prong to prong. At about the 20th prong she began to feel her weight. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the aching in her shoulders. Anharah reached for the next hand hold and it snapped.

"Damn it!" She cursed as she swung her arm back to the previous hand hold. She quickly analyzed the space between the prong she was in and the next unbroken one. Anharah got a better grip and started swinging back and forth preparing to jump. "One.." She said to herself. "Two…" She let go and was airborne for a moment. Her hand reached out and grabbed the next prong.

It snapped.

Her other arm frantically reached out and grabbed the side of the ladder. Anharah cried out as the weight of her body jerked her shoulder. She grabbed the other side with her right hand and swung her feet up to hang like a monkey. From there she shimmied her the rest of the way across the gap visibly shaken from her very close call.

She fell onto the platform and clutched her left shoulder, which was searing with pain. She lay there for a moment and took a minute long break. "Okay, that's enough." She said to herself. "You haven't even gotten to the hard stuff yet."

She looked around the platform and saw that it was lined with weapons. She picked up two daggers and hid them in the sleeves of her blouse, tightening the ties around her wrists so they wouldn't move. She then grabbed a quiver of arrows and slung it across her back and put the bow across her body.

"This must be like some sort of check point." She thought to herself. "A reward for making it through the the first two challenges. Now to the third." She felt pleased and relive to know that the magisters who created The Course weren't completely against her.

Anharah walked to the edge of the platform and quickly realized that there was no ladder down. The peeked her head over the side and saw that there was no footholds, no hand holds, absolutely nothing to grab onto and visibly no way to climb down for the platform. "Shit." She thought to herself. "This is the third challenge. How am I going to get down?"

She dug through all of the weapons in search of supplies to get down. Underneath a large shield she found a pile of ladder segments and relief flooded through her. "These must fit together somehow."

She picked up two segments and looked at the ends. They were splintered and jagged. There was no way they were going to fit together. "Are you kidding me?" Anger and frustration bubbled up inside her. This was some kind of cruel joke.

Anharah looked around and located the magisters in the crowd. She picked up a segment of splintered ladder and hurled it in the their direction. It didn't come anywhere close to hitting them, but she knew that they were aware of her meaning. She started digging again. Underneath the ladders she found two lengths of rope. She looked across from the podium and saw a wooden pole. She couldn't be sure how far away from her it was, but it was worth a shot.

She tied the ends of the lengths together and then tied one end of rope to one of her arrows and help the other end in her hand as she aimed at the pole. She loosed the arrow and the rope flowed through her hand, going…. Going…. "This might actually work." The arrow hit right in the center of the pole. "Yes!" She cheered.

She tugged the now long rope to make it taught before tying it to the podium. As soon as she pulled the knot gave way and came loose. The two ends fell apart and she was left with one length of considerably shorter rope.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" She shrieked. Her chest felt right as she started to panic. "Deep breaths, Anharah." She said to herself. "You can do this. You can do this."

Jon watched the podium intently and silently from his seat. "You can do this." He thought. "Just find another way."

He watched as the last length of rope was fed down the side of the podium. It stopped about twenty feet shy of the ground. Anharah made her way over the side and began to scale down it.

"Ooh, that's going to be a hard fall." Michal observed. Sam and Jon nodded in agreement.

She got to the very end and held on for a moment before letting go. She fell the twenty feet and landed on her feet before stumbling and landing on her back. A cloud of dust went up around her as she landed. Very slowly, she got up. Jon could see her testing her right knee. She untucked her shirt from her trousers and ripped the bottom of it off and wrapped around the knee tying it tight to hold it in place.

Anharah gripped her knee and felt a searing pain running through it. "Damn it. Damn it. Damn it." She took deep breaths through her nose and tried to move through the pain, taking limping steps forward.

She noticed a large pit dug into the ground. She knew it was way too wide to jump over, and there was no way she was climbing down into it. She looked around and saw piles of boards and rope. "Okay, so apparently I'm Anharah the builder now." She thought.

She walked over to the pile and pulled one of the boards off. She dragged it to the side of the pit and slowly pushed it over the edge. She was not going to build herself a whole little bridge and find out it was too short. As the board went across Anharah could hear a distinct hissing noise coming from inside the darkness of the pit. "Here we go. Bring on the hard stuff."

The board fit well over the size of the pit, which was a relief to Anharah, because that meant she could just focus on whatever was in the darkness below. She created a small bridge for herself using four boards side by side tied together, and then another set on top of that to make sure it was sturdy enough to hold her weight. She slid the bridge over top of the pit and once again heard the hissing sound. She took an arrow from the quiver on her back and strung her bow before stepping onto the makeshift bridge.

The bridge creaked under her weight and the hissing intensified.

 **Thanks so much for reading! Part 2 will be at cha soon, so be on the lookout! Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought!**

 **-V**


	10. Quick Update

p style="text-align: center;"Hey, All! I just wanted to apologize for the lack of chapters in the last few months. I have not, by any means, forgotten about Anharah or Jon. My life has been a literal shit show, to put it lightly, so Ive been handling all of that. But Ive gotten to a calm-ish point and I am truly going to try to begin uploading regularly again. Im going to try to get the other part if The Course up by the end of this week. (Sorry to have stopped uploading in such a heightened point. That was shitty of me.) Anywaaays, thank you for your patience, I truly value each and every person who has read my story. So heres to more regular uploads! Im back! /p  
p style="text-align: center;"-V./p 


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